Cancer Sucks.

It's like a wildfire. A blazing inferno raging out of control, taking everything in it's path with rapid fury.

In just a few short months, 6, I think. It went from a sore throat, to esophogeal cancer, spreading to the lymph nodes, possibly in his intestine and wrapping itself around his feeding tube. With many more details, hurdles and obstacles standing in it's way. It's jumped the lines and branched off of branches.

From the very first day, his spirit has been amazing. He's a fighter. Determined that this is not going to get the best of him. If he stayed positive he "will overcome Cancer".

Chemo and radiation made him sick, very sick, and weak. But that wasn't going to get the best of him, either. He's more comfortable in a Care Facility, not ever wanting to go back home.

He's had infections, a few surgeries...unfortunately due to poor care given by the VA. He struggles to breath and doesn't feel well, often. He's tested positive for MRSA, although suffers no symptoms. Active bouts of nausea and dizziness and heart arhythmia also crowd his days.

He almost coded on Mother's Day and has been in the hospital next door, since. In and out of ICU is where he dwells.

There are days where he suffers so bad, that he takes his prescribed Morphine. There are days where he is not feeling much pain and forgoes it. Those days he's weak, he sleeps most of the time, and can hardly hold his head up. His positivity is fading...although I'm told you can catch a glimpse of it when he's had some meds. They mask his pain and discomfort, and I'm sure his fear, well.

My mom, sister and I flew in spontaneously a couple of weekends ago. Our flight was delayed a bit and we just knew he was counting the hours and watching the clock. And when we arrived and walked in to the courtyard, where he was sitting, his face lit up ever so brightly. Quick to show off his grand-daughters to any staff that walked by. Proud of his daughters, Nan and Lori and missing his son who "also moved to Arizona. Don't what it is about that Desert"! It was a fast trip, but we spent every hour that we could with him. With intentions of busting him out on Sunday, he had been looking forward to it, he could not bear the pain to venture out. He was frail and fragile and crying when we walked into his room that morning. I know he thought he was letting us down. But he wasn't. We know he could've if he would've. And we were only wanting to help him out of his four walls for a few hours.

When it was time to say our goodbyes the morning we were flying back home, I thought it would be hard. But it wasn't. Quite honestly, I didn't say goodbye. I gave him a kiss and a hug and told him to take care and I'd see him later. Because I will. And I have great peace in knowing that.

As my mom is on a plane tonight, in a frantic, scared and tender state of mind all I can think about his comfort. His fear. He's got to be scared. He is on life-support and in ICU. The details are a bit shakey, as his health fell to an all new low suddenly this afternoon, while spending time with my Uncle and my Grandpa's best buddies Ben and Nelda.

My heart breaks. I don't want him to be scared. He is coherent and knows what is going on, and that's so frightening to me. It sounds morbid, but I want him to rest peacefully. He's such an honorable man, such a strong soul and I don't want him to suffer. And he is. I want his pain to dissolve.

His family loves him as much as he loves us. And he knows that, it's a comforting feeling. I believe in eternal life. I believe that Grandma is waiting for him. And when it's time, I cannot wait until they are reunited. Lord willing.